everything will be

It's 9:30 pm on Saturday. I'm sitting in the far back corner at Online Coffee, my favorite. It changes each week. I'm feeling a lot, probably more than I can handle on my own. Some days you have to be outwardly silent because every thought in your head is unbelievably loud. Today is one of those days. It makes work uncomfortable, not that it isn't to begin with. It feels like the limbo in seasons between autumn and winter outside..kind of like when it snows in Colorado late at night and the sky is bright because it's clouds are busy bursting. I wish, instead, that it were thunderstorming with very heavy rain because it's my favorite thing when the weather mirrors what is happening in my head. Someone very dear to my heart is driving over a thousand miles (principally) to be near me. In about two and a half hours he'll be at my doorstep. My nerves are dangling by a worn thread, to be honest. Not even for normal reasons. Have I ever been this vulnerable? Likely, I have not. I always meet people in their element. I am never met in mine. He's bringing cookies that my mom made. I hope I don't cry when I eat them, because they taste like home. Of course I will.  The barista here is from Sicily and I can't wait to tell Nikki when I get back. I hold my breath every time I walk past a dog in the city...Which is practically every thirty seconds. Every time I think that if I can refrain from petting the dog, and I can't smell the dog, my eyes won't fill up with longing. I want, so badly, to be near my dogs. I'm a clumsy glass. My mother calls every morning, and when I don't answer she calls a second time, and when I don't answer a second time she leaves a voicemail. Seconds after, she sends a message that says "Call me." I can hear her fighting tears every time we talk. I can hear her crying in the letters she sends me. I'm feeling a little self conscious about my friend Phil liking the things I write that are dripping. I wish I could write anything that is real and makes sense like he does. This is my passive way of thanking you. Nikki prayed for me before I left the apartment tonight. She can tell when my boots are heavy. If this coffee house wasn't built directly on solid ground, I don't doubt that the heaviness of everything inside of me and on top of me would push me through the floorboards with ease. My bones are bending with the pressure of it all. The last time I talked to my stepmom was my last day in Colorado. I wonder where her patience stands, what excuse her mind is filled with now. I realized the day before leaving that my grandpa was missing from my father's life from first grade until the end of college. I realized my dad has never known what it means to be a father to a child. One week prior to leaving I asked him if he ever wanted to spend time with me, I practically begged him to love me. I can't believe I did that to him. He has never known how. He needs so much love. I'm listening to Your Hand in Mine on repeat. It doesn't make things lighter, but in a sense, it helps. If it were water beneath me, I would be buried in the ocean floor.